


And You're Still Here

by BlueSkyNoise



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSkyNoise/pseuds/BlueSkyNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It really was a rather endearing way of saying 'I love you'."</p><p>A collection of short, unrelated Rosemary drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bump

_Bump._

Three years was a lot of time to learn, but three years spent living outnumbered by such a different culture was an entirely new angle Rose never really considered. She had observed quite a lot with the variance of their species, and sometimes without even noticing she would find herself imitating it. It was small, unconscious things. Saying 'hive' instead of home, or 'block' instead of room. Only if Dave called her out on it would she correct herself, but even that was growing rare as he too settled in to the new familiarity with alien terms. After all, one could hardly help being multicultural when the last of your kind was beaten two to five.

Granted, five peers their own age bearing through the struggle of whatever hormonal chaos was coupled with the troll equivalent of puberty were hardly the prime example of Alternian culture, but it was strangely fitting.

But a year and a half of integrated observation had not prepared her for having her first kiss (awkward as it was by itself in both of their inexperience and hesitation) being followed immediately with a headbutt.

Face red, a stuttered questioning of 'what the hell' was met with an equally confused expression and quickly fumbled into a rambling apology which turned a light jade flush deep green. An explanation had barely started on her lips before Rose cut her off with an uncontainable laugh, and if Kanaya Maryam was not a troll Rose would have thought her horribly ill for the color she had turned.

But that was half a year ago, and half a year was a lot of time to learn about having an alien girlfriend. More than enough time to learn of her foreign gestures of affection (albeit with far less force than the first time, though with embarrassment Kanaya would later admit it was due to being so flustered).

So half a year later, the forehead softly tapped against her own when she awoke in a pair of dimly glowing arms was met with a smile before being returned.

It really was a rather endearing way of saying 'I love you'.

_Bump._


	2. Multicultural

“I still do not understand why you wear this thing,” she said, the measuring tape pinching between her fingers. She leaned in closer, not wanting to get the number wrong by even a millimeter, hearing Rose's response above her head while she knelt at her back.

“Are you really still going on about that?” she asked, and the tape slipped from around her as Kanaya sat back, a huff in her breath.

“Yes I am still going on about that,” she said. Rose Lalonde was the only living creature capable of making rolling their eyes audible and nothing would convince her otherwise. “And I will continue to question it until you give me a sensible reason for needlessly binding your chest.”

“I've told you already.” Rose turned to face her, and if Kanaya stared at all at least she had the excuse of giving a glare to the article of clothing Rose insisted upon using to cover her beneath what was already a perfectly opaque shirt. Senseless piece of cloth.

Not that Rose Lalonde shirtless was anything she would object to looking at by itself.

“It is not binding,” she was saying. An eyebrow was raised. “Why do you hold such a grudge against my bra? It does nothing to throw off your measurements.”

“Regardless,” Kanaya said, standing. She crossed her arms across her own chest, tape tucked into her fist. “The point remains that it is unnecessary. If anything I would see it as some sort of health hazard.”

Rose deadpanned, “A health hazard.”

“Yes.” Kanaya scoffed. “It is unneeded tightness over the general area of your most vital organs. You could be slowly crushing your heart from the outside in all for the sake of your ridiculous human belief that your breasts require a double layer of fabric.”

For a few seconds Rose only stared at her, but before she could find another argument the girl had turned away, laughing. Kanaya scowled, a tinge of embarrassment stinging her but quickly being pushed aside. She knew she was right.

Humans had such stupid ideas.

The laughter quickly dimmed to a few light giggles, and with her back still to her, Kanaya watched as one of Rose's hands strayed behind her, feeling for the clasp of her bra.

“If it really infuriates you that much,” she said, and with a small click the bra came unhooked. “I'll just have to remove it before you are forced to auspisticize between it and my skin.”

Whatever rebuttal Kanaya had died in her throat as she watched the fabric be pulled from Rose's shoulders and let fall to the floor with a quiet thud. The embarrassment returned, illogically, and without a word Kanaya stepped forward to continue her work.

And if her cheeks felt hot, it was because she had decided to wear long sleeves.

“Humans with your strange attire...” she muttered, bringing the tape around Rose once more (and damn it if her hands felt a tad more shaky it must have been that she needed to eat soon). “I will never understand you.” Her fingers brushed against now bare skin, and for a moment it was rather difficult to focus at all on the numbers she was supposed to be taking. “Perhaps I should tie up my chest as well and become more multicultural.”

“Mm.” Rose turned her head to look at her with her thoughtful hum, and Kanaya raised her eyes to meet hers. But Rose's gaze was lower, but before Kanaya could voice her confusion, Rose smiled strangely and turned back around.

“No, I think you're quite fine without it.”

It took nearly a minute for Kanaya to catch on, and by then she was grateful Rose was looking ahead so she could not see the color she turned.


	3. One

The arms wrapped around your waist are unexpected, but you give them no more response than a blink of your eyes. There's a single candle still lit on your dresser and you keep your gaze fixed on the flickering shadows it throws against the wall.

It's relaxing, even if the light is ruined somewhat by the white glow now at your back.

“I thought you were going to be with Vriska tonight.” It's more a statement than a question, and perhaps that's why Kanaya doesn't give you an answer. A quiet hum is all she offers, and her forehead nuzzles at the crook of your neck. It's a sweet gesture, but you can't bring yourself to respond but with further stillness. Several long seconds pass before Kanaya breaks the near-tense silence settled between you.

“I'm not going to see Vriska tonight,” she murmurs, and then there is warmth on the back of your neck where she places a few light kisses. Again you hold your tongue, if only this time to hide even the slightest hint at a reaction. Four years and your heart still beat faster with the feather-light touch of her lips. Flighty broad indeed, Lalonde.

But there is still a limit on how long you can remain speechless before that in itself betrays some hesitation, and so you find your voice as her thumbs trace small circles against your hips, arms loose enough around you that you know she would allow you to pull away but firm enough to let you know she does not want you to.

“Does this mean there has been some rescheduling?” you ask, and for your credit your voice reveals nothing but perfect indifference. “Forgive me if I missed something but I believe we had plans for tomorrow. I'm not sure how I feel about you standing me up.”

Kanaya laughs, quietly enough that it could barely be noted, and yet the sound still eases the sinking that had nearly started in your chest. You can feel her chin come to rest on your shoulder, though you do not notice the way your own head tilts to rest against hers until there's the familiar, soft warmth where your hair brushes against hers, her horn just barely pressing to your temple.

“No I am not standing you up,” she says, still with the faintest touch of amusement. “Nothing has changed, I would not dare to miss our evening of baseless quipping over dinner.”

“Good,” you say, and your hands are over her arms before you can allow yourself to think too much of it. “I don't think I could forgive you leaving me hanging like a lovestruck teenager on a second date. Hell, I might have even stamped my foot in rage.”

Kanaya laughs again, but the silence that follows it is heavy. You can tell she is thinking, and though there is temptation to interrupt her thought, you turn your attention to her arms, lazily playing at her sleeves and leaving her undisturbed, feelings the fabric lightly between the tips of your fingers. She wants to speak. You can hear it in the very way she breathes, and in the same sense you know if you pressed her she would do so. Yet something holds you back, and you wait. You wait for her, and after a minute of soundless noise she catches you.

“I'm not going to be seeing Vriska anymore.”

And catches you off guard.

“What?” It slips out without thought, without any premeditation to hide the tone of surprise. You curse yourself for it, but you don't have long to dwell as Kanaya's response is prompt.

“I broke things off with her,” she answers, and this time you keep your mouth shut long enough to process what you are hearing and smooth your voice. At least then you do not sound so shamefully shocked when you dare question more, though the word is still careful to the point of strain.

“Why?”

Kanaya falls quiet again, though not motionless. One hand slides from your hip to your stomach, drifting up just barely an inch or two but still enough to slightly bunch the fabric between her fingers. When she speaks, it very well may be to herself.

“I am your only quadrant.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you can almost imagine your stomach twisting beneath the gentle weight of her fingers.

“Yes,” you answer. Monotony is key. “But I am also human. While monogamy may be the standard for our culture...” The lump hardens, but you hide it by lowering your voice. “...I know it is not the same for trolls.” You shrug. “Cultural differences.”

“Mm.” A kiss is placed against your cheek, and you give her arm a weak squeeze in response. “Yes, and you have been nothing if not culturally sensitive as of late.” Her words dripped with an unspoken _however,_ and that's when you opened your mouth. Because there was no however in this case. There were no buts, althoughs, or anyhows. It was fact. Kanaya was a troll, and troll romance consisted of four separate quadrants, two of which happened to be of an intimate nature involving copulation. You are a human, and it is not your place to get senselessly upset over something so trivial.

(Not that you are upset. Of course not. Like you said, it was senseless and trivial. Idiotic even. Why would you be upset over Kanaya delving into her black quadrant while you occupied her red? Stupid.)

“But I do not think it is working out for me.” Your mouth closes. She continues. “On the topic of cultural sensitivity, I have been thinking...and I believe one occupant to cover a single base of affections would serve me far better.”

And just like that, you have no argument. This was what Kanaya was choosing for herself in her own best interest. Just as before you have no right to speak out in the matter. You cannot protest her decision.

And she knows it.

She knows you cannot find words to justify objecting to her choice, because she knows you would accept it no other way. Not for the stability of your relationship, never for the sake of your own feelings. But for hers?

Sometimes it deeply hits you how well Kanaya Maryam knows you.

And each time in the end you confess you love her for it.

And you want to tell her that. You want to say it. You want to thank her and express your gratitude or your amazement at what she was doing for you. You want to say a million things to her, but like so many times before, not a one of them passes from your lips.

“Alright.” That is all you say. No change in tone, no inflection. Nothing to indicate she had just told you anything more important than how the weather was. You turn in her arms, and with her hands now at the small of your back you rest your own on her shoulders, coaxing the two of you back until you have her pressed to the door, taking one step more to close all the distance between you.

And maybe, just maybe, you smile. You smile and look at her and she smiles back, because maybe you know that she can see in it all of the things you have in your heart right then but not in your voice.

One day you know you will open to her and tell those things always on your mind, but right now it doesn't matter. She knows. She knows, and her body is warm against yours and she is  _not_ going to see Vriska Serket tonight, or anyone any other night.

Your smiling, even as your lips brush hers and you run your fingers through her hair, fingers curly loosely around the base of her hooked horn.

“As long as you are now free tonight...”

**Author's Note:**

> So like the summary said, this is going to be for me to dump all off my short Rosemary drabbles. Most will be plotless/contextless. Sorry 'bout that.


End file.
